


She Could Dream

by Gamma_Orionis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: hp_may_madness, Dream Sex, F/M, Sexual Content, Wordcount: 100-500, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 04:04:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gamma_Orionis/pseuds/Gamma_Orionis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bellatrix dreamed, she wasn't confined by the limitations of what the Dark Lord would willingly do to her. Written for Day Two of hp-may-madness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Could Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day Two of hp_may_madness with the kink "Dream sex".

When Bellatrix dreamed, she wasn't confined by the limitations of what the Dark Lord would willingly do to her.

She knew that, in reality, it was unlikely that her Master would ever so much as touch her, much less give her the sort of pleasure that she so craved from him. To wish for it was futile, but wish Bellatrix did.

And she dreamed.

She dreamed of the Dark Lord taking her to his bed and kissing her, and as long as she was dreaming, he was tender and passionate with her. The conscious part of her mind reprimanded her for believing that the Dark Lord would ever treat her like that when she was nothing more than his slave, but while she was asleep, she was allowed to ignore that fact.

While she was asleep, she could ignore all the inconvenient little details about reality. If her dreams had to be like reality, what would the point be?

She dreamed of her Master mounting her and clutching her and crying out for her, desperate in the way that she desperately wanted him to be and knew that he never  _would_  be. Certainly not for her, and most likely not ever, not for anyone.

_But she could dream._

Waking up was the worst part. She could never be satisfied by her dreams, not really, and so she lay, wet and aching, with her husband's arms around her waist and a thin shaft of early-morning sunlight cutting across the bedroom. She squirmed, and Rodolphus shifted behind her.

"Good dreams?" he asked, voice low and so tender that she almost felt guilty when she said,

"Incredible dreams."

)O(

_Fin_


End file.
